


The wish of the Outsider

by Houdinimag



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, Family Feels, Friendship, M/M, Other, Self-Insert, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:41:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25922983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houdinimag/pseuds/Houdinimag
Summary: A typical self-insert in a witcher world.I land. I disbelief, then learn that, yes, all of it is real. Then I mourn all I've lost and move on.Not alone, but with a new-found family of adventurers who, just like me, landed in this strange world.But someone else watches us from the shadows. Someone who also is not from this world.
Kudos: 7





	The wish of the Outsider

I awoke to the mouth-watering smell of baked potato and meat. It tickled my nostrils until the scent brought me slowly to the land of the living. Someone appeared to be making dinner, if the sound of clanking pots and pan was any indication. My stomach grumbled at the thought.

My eyes fluttered open, as gentle as butterfly wings and each of the five senses told me a story I was reluctant to believe in. I looked around and saw a room that resembled a medieval wooden chamber, covered in rich furniture, old golden-red tapestries and filled from top to bottom with ordinary objects like candles, books, hanging portraits of important family members, and even a head of a deer, just above the entrance.

I would never call myself an expert on fashion and design history or capable of recognising which century did certain elements come from, and yet, even with my lack of expertise, I could see that whoever designed this room had probably pulled inspiration from different time periods. I could also tell, that it was meant to be designed as lodging for a person of high standing. A noblewoman, possibly. Did Larpers make it? Certainly not historical reenactors, who are famed for their meticulous attention to detail and historical accuracy. No, this looks like a fantasy room.

Why am I here then?

I sat up and winced, as pain shot up my left arm. It was bandaged. I racked my brain for any explanation, any memory but came up with nothing. How did I got here?

So, I looked around once more and noticed a small detail, which I packed at the back of my mind. This room had no electricity. No cables, sockets, not even a radiator. Am I in a wooden hut of sorts?

Any further thoughts were soon interrupted by a creaking sound of footsteps on a staircase. Someone was coming. I quickly assumed several possibilities: a nurse, camp coordinator, someone in charge of a Larp event. Not for a second had I thought it might be a kidnapper, as it sounded too improbable in my head. Thus, I only adjusted the silk bedcovers and waited.

I’ve also noted a lack of my original clothing. Instead, I wore a delicate white chemise with tiny ribbons around the neckline. Cute. Strange. Wait, have I been undressed by strangers?

Those few seconds of thought flew by and the door opened, revealing the mysterious stranger. A tall blond man in green tunic entered, carrying a basket filled with medical utensils, bottles, and bandages. His clothes were tightened by a leather belt with a silver clasp. The boots were black and dusty, just like the rolled-up sleeves and hems, and lastly, a hanging pouch. Typical fantasy/Larp appearance of an NPC or a side-quest character.

He entered like one would enter their own house and quietly tiptoed to the nearest drawer to put the basket down. Then our eyes met. He let out a gasp and would have almost dropped the supplies, if not for his fast reflexes. He caught them in time.

“Shit, you’re awake!”

_Was I not supposed to be?_

I stared, uncertain of how to respond to his strange reaction. I had a growing headache. The young lad moved frantically here and there like a fidgeting ferret, unsure what to do with himself. It was rather funny.

“Wait here! I’ll get someone for you, so don’t panic!”, he pointed at me and then dashed out of the room just as quickly, probably to fetch this _‘someone’_. Someone in charge? I sure hope so. I would like to know what on earth was I doing here instead of a hospital or my own bed. The fact, that he spoke English didn’t go unnoticed and only raised my concerns. Is it a language Larp? Am I still in my country?

I heard once that people experienced temporary amnesia after traumatic events. It was a reasonable explanation, I’ll cling to for now.

The footsteps returned, this time heavier than before and the door opened once more. The man in green tunic came inside followed by an equally tall red-head woman in what I could best describe as Viking clothes. She wore typical fantasy garments like a burgundy tunic with Celtic embroidery on the hems, leather belt with copper clasps depicting strange Nordic symbols.

She was a statue of a woman, very clearly the leader of whatever group resided in this abode (Larp group, right?), as the young man stood nearby awaiting orders and giving her the helm to steer this situation. I felt her golden gaze on me like a very judgemental scanner. Reading every detail. I couldn’t tell whether she was angry or annoyed or simply tired. It was evening, as I noticed the darkness outside the window.

I wondered what she saw when she looked at me.

“So!”, she began and her voice seemed to expel confidence with every note and tember. “welcome to the land of the living!”

The blonde had meanwhile pulled up a pair of chairs for them to sit on. She pulled hers near me so she could sit closer and look me in the eyes when she speaks. I felt like eye contact seemed important to her, though I didn’t feel as sure as she did.

“Yeah.” I laughed nervously. “Where am I? I’m not sure I remember what happened, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t remember? What’s the last thing you can recall?”

I searched very hard and thought about the last evening on a somewhat rickety bed under yellow covers. At home. In an old building with neighbour kids yelling in the morning and trying my hardest to fall asleep as they jumped like monkeys on the ceiling.

“I was in my bed, going to sleep. At home.”

The woman turned to the blonde man, who also frowned at my statement.

“And you don’t remember how you got injured? Did you have any plans to go outside or go on a trip outside the village?”

Village? What village? I wanted to say but shut my mouth before I blurted it out. I must have a serious head injury. How many days have I forgotten? Two? Three?

“No, I just went to sleep in my bed. I don’t remember how I got here or how I got injured. What happened?”

She shared a concerned look with her friend. “You don’t remember falling into a pit? Or being chased by monsters?”

I made a face like one does when swallowing a lemon, full of disbelief. “What?”

“We found you in a pit near the village, and thank goodness we did! A second longer and you’d be a ghoul dinner!” The woman laughed and slapped her knee. As if the joke was supposed to be funny, but my lack of reaction made the blonde man frown even more. I think he’s beginning to understand that I truly didn’t remember anything.

“I’m sorry, is this a joke? I’m…uh…supposed to laugh now and look for a hidden camera?” I turned my head left and right because, who knows, there actually might be a camera and this is all just a huge prank gone wrong.

The moment I said those words, the atmosphere in the room grew suddenly colder and I saw their faces immediately lose their mirth and colour. The woman’s eyes widened as big as saucers.

They gaped at me. Then the woman blinked a few times and again and then straightened her sitting posture.

“Did you say ‘camera’?” she spoke slowly and the tone of her voice gave me the chills. Did I just utter something blasphemous? Or was it all an act and I should just play along? I didn’t really know what words to choose and whether I should choose them wisely in my current company.

“Yes. Um, are you actors? Or Larpers? I don’t really know what’s going on here, I’d like some real explanation if you don’t mind.”

This situation was so bizarre that I wasn’t sure if I should feel angry, annoyed, or scared. The man in green tunic turned his head and muttered something inaudible under his breath, to which the woman replied “Fuck indeed, Freddie. We got to talk”. She turned to me “Sorry, we have to discuss something downstairs, we’ll be back soon.”

And then they walked out, just like that.

“Hey! Who are you? What’s going on?!” I called after them, but they didn’t respond and closed the door as they left.

My mind was in a whirl after this very short introduction. I had more questions than ever and even more confused feelings, banging in my brain. My head felt like a train station where each feeling had mixed schedules and didn’t know which way to go. How do I react? Can I trust these people? Who are they?

The house had relatively thin walls and thus I could hear the start of a heated conversation downstairs along with the sound of clattering utensils. The smell of baked potatoes came back and I wondered If there’s a shop nearby where I could buy something to eat. Now that I thought of a shop, I also thought about my money, which I didn’t have now, and then followed a thought about my phone, which I also didn’t have. Where were my closest possessions?

Is there enough connection to call the police?

Is this a show or a practical joke?

Is there a rational explanation for all that just happened?

Minutes passed by and the talks downstairs only became more heated, louder, noisier until I heard a child’s voice call someone ‘stupid’ and then, a loud bang on what I assumed was a table. Silence. Some murmuring accompanied by a low growly voice, commanding and confident. The leader has spoken. I could recognise the woman announcing that “It is not up for debate!”, as the red-head who spoke to me just now. Then it went quiet. Nothing, but the clanking of spoons or forks.

My stomach grumbled once more. The sudden appetite for a meat-rich meal overcame my senses and I couldn’t help but drool at the thought of just a small portion of their dinner. If they were so kind as to share with me, that is.

A few minutes went by, as I sat on the comfortable bed and, feeling a little foolish, wondered if I should walk around and explore my surroundings. Just then, I heard someone coming upstairs again this night. It was Freddie, the blond young man whose kind smile would put anyone at ease. He carried this time a round wooden bowl, nothing like the plastic/porcelain plates I had at home. Dinner for me.

“For me?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes. Have a seat, you must be hungry.”

“Thank you. Where are my thing, by the way? Did they survive whatever accident I was involved in?”

He seemed reluctant to answer truthfully, or as honestly as he would like. Perhaps it was to protect my feelings or perhaps he had no idea. Either way, the food beckoned me and I was famished.

I sat down by the table and scooped the mashed potatoes with delicious meat sauce. It was scrumptious. Mouth-watering. Simply the best dinner I have eaten in a while. He sat opposite me and nodded approvingly at my enthusiasm. 

“Eat up. I’m glad you like it. It’s my first time making dinner tonight.”

“Really? It’s amazing! Thank you!”

His eyes crinkled at my compliment. I might have noticed a shade of pink on his pale cheeks, but I could never properly tell if someone was blushing or not. His mirth, however, soon vanished replaced by hesitation and fidgeting fingers around the hems of his sleeves. He wanted to tell me something.

“You probably have a lot of questions. Who we are, where you are and so on.”, he began. “I…well, I’m here to answer as many questions as you’d like, even show you and demonstrate if you won’t believe my answers.”

The vagueness of his statement did not go unnoticed. I scooped more potatoes.

“All right.” I still thought they were just actors or Larpers who were having fun, but the wounds…where did the wounds come from? “You can start by telling me who you are. But seriously, why are you all dressed up like that?”

There was a short pause in which Freddie thought hard on a proper answer for me. He seemed to choose his words carefully, for whatever reason. Nice acting.

“Those are our normal clothes. This is how people dress up in these parts, although we have also vestments from other continents.”, he said shortly.

“You trying to tell me, that people dress up in fantasy clothes day and night?” I retorted.

“They’re real enough here.”

I gave him a look of utter disbelief but the strangeness of the situation has now become endearing to me and I didn’t want to ‘break’ his performance. If that’s the way we go, then let’s continue.

“All right. Right. So let's get to the second question, where exactly is ‘here’?”

“Nilfgaard.”

I nearly choked on the potatoes.

“Excuse me?” I laughed once I swallowed my meal, and I knew I could no longer pretend I believed in any of his bullshit. “All right, sure. Nilfgaard. Is this Nilfgaard somewhere in England? You’ve got that ‘Downtown Abbey’ accent and the lady spoke like a true Scotsman so I assume I’m somewhere on that island.”

“No, you’re in Nilfgaard.”

I sighed and rested the spoon on the bowl. I haven’t finished eating yet. I really didn’t want to upset the man, he was trying his best to fool me, but what he said was plain ridiculous. They probably paid him less than nothing for such an event.

“Look, man, you do realise how stupid that sounds, right? I mean ‘cmon, There’s no way I’m gonna believe you. You can play all you want, show me a map or even let me look outside the window, but we both know you’re just a guy in fantasy robes, pretending to be a hero from a video game.”

He was the one to sigh this time as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. I thought’s he’d stop by now, realise that I’m not that gullible, but I guess once you start acting you got to commit. A determined fellow got to give him that much credit.

“I’m not joking. This isn’t a joke and no one is trying to fool you here. This is as real as the fire on the lit candle. You’re not in your world anymore.” He insisted. I just shook my head in a pitiful way, feeling sorry for him. He continued.

“It’s been so long since we had met anyone like you, that I almost forgot what it’s like. Perhaps a demonstration would be the better solution for now.”

Suddenly, he stood up and walked to the centre of the room, just before the four-poster bed. He straightened up, stretched his neck from left to right and shrugged his shoulders as if in preparation for some kind of performance. I could sense that this is the moment when I am bedazzled by dancing lights. Perhaps they’ll turn everything dark and change his appearance to resemble something else. Or I’m going to see magic tricks, straight from David Copperfield repertoire.

He looked at me gently and lifted his hand. “Now, I want you to stay calm. Just sit there and don’t do anything. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Whenever someone says ‘I won’t hurt you’, almost exactly the opposite happens, so of course, I have grown nervous and watched as he stepped a few feet back. A sudden tension filled the air. Anticipation. But for what?

Then I realised. _That man had pointy teeth._

What I saw next was almost impossible to describe. I could, but it would all sound terribly cliché. His mouth elongated, teeth grew bigger as did his entire body. He grew hair on his arms and legs, although I should call them paws now. The process was unlike anything I have seen in cinema or a video game. Like watching a tree shoot up in a speed of light. Impossible, and yet. He stood there, growling like the deformed monstrosity he was.

A monstrous bat. A werebat?

I blinked. I blinked more and more and each time the sight was exactly the same. At first, I didn’t want to believe and desperately held to the last bits of reason I had. This can’t be true. It’s literally impossible. How, then? Hologram? Did they put something into my food? No, that would be too much of a hassle and too elaborate a joke.

He seemed as real as anything I saw and touched. The hairy skin with patches of grey fur. The large ears, moving about like a radar shield. His…adorable, fox-like snout with a twitching nose. In comparison, his large claws could probably easily dismember me in three seconds, faster than the blink of an eye.

I still didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. But my brain and heart immediately send warning signals to my body and I was ready to flee if anything went wrong.

He looked at me and chirped quietly, as he lowered himself to the ground. He had to squeeze his wings to fit in the suddenly too small bedroom, which could not accommodate something of his size.

Impossible. Then, I decided to do something stupid, although a thousand voices in my head screamed at me ‘ _don’t do this! What are you doing! Are you crazy?!’_

I walked up very slowly. Step by step. Halfway through I stretched out my hand to touch him. A part of me, the ever-curious part wanted to be sure, if this was real or just some fantasy.

The werebat, which snuggled comfortably on the rug, suddenly looked up and I stopped.

We stared at each other. Me in a state of shock and him, an entity of unknown intentions. He didn’t bare his teeth at me or growl, so I assumed foolishly that it was safe. I came closer, and closer, until my hand was only a few inches from his furry snout.

“C-can…” I cleared my throat. “Can I touch you?”

The bat nodded. It actually nodded. It understood me!

I touched his snout and, once given a silent permission, I petted him like a large and scary dog. Up close, I noticed how black hie eyes were. I could see myself in them like in a dark mirror. In turn, the bat chirped and snuggled closer to be petted and this small sign of affection gave me the time to calm down and think through what I just witnessed.

“You understand me, right?” He nodded. “So…um…”

It was very hard to find words. My brain was going through an Armageddon, trying to find an explanation or just stop the consistent and instinctual need to panic by making new things, the unnatural things, into normal elements of life. It’s a wonder I didn’t get a headache from overthinking.

“You’re real. It’s not a costume.” I said those words aloud because I felt it was necessary. It didn’t make it feel any less real. The bat chirped in response.

Snuggling with a bat was actually very nice if a little wet and warm. He smelled of petrichor and autumn season. And a wet dog.

“This…all of this is real?”

The bat nuzzled my armpits now, sniffing, which with a beast his size felt like I was treated by a vacuum cleaner. I giggled. “Stop, that tickles!” He stopped. Then he sat up and hugged me to his chest with one wing and we stood there for a long while, silently giving me space to think and affection to comfort my thoughts.

I suppose I could say I believed a little now. Enough to realise that my circumstances have changed and all the worries I had yesterday: about work, salary, paying rent, having enough to eat. All have flown out the window by the time he transformed back to his human form.

“You’re a monster bat?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“No, I’m a vampire. This is one of my appearances I can assume at will.”

He slowly unhugged me and turned to reach for the medical basket he left here earlier.

“I’m also the resident healer and a doctor. You don’t have any broken or twisted bones, so there is that.” He walked up and I realised this was the moment I’m supposed to undress myself. The manner in which he approached me spoke volumes about his empathy. “I know it’s uncomfortable and probably embarrassing, but I assure you I’m only going to dress your wounds. I’m a professional.”

So, I tangled with my chemise, which he later helped to take off, and let the blond man take care of my arm. Now I could see the claw-like scratches and bite marks that were hidden underneath. Again, I couldn’t understand, how could I forget being chewed on? The wounds itched, but Freddie applied a healing salve and I massaged it into my skin. After changing the bandages, I put the chemise on again and he gathered all the medical kit back into the basket.

“All right. Now, I’m not going to bombard you with new information today, we have a whole week for that, so you can go back to bed and sleep or read books from the bedside table.” He pointed at a tiny stack near the bed. It was a good idea. No need to exert my brain more than it had today.

Then he hugged me one more time, and surprisingly, he smelled of mint and herbs when in human form. He kissed the top of my head. “Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

Just before he was going to leave, I called him back, wanting an answer to one thing.

“Wait! Why a week?”

He smirked. “Me and my friends are leaving this place and moving somewhere else. Don’t worry, we probably won’t be sleeping in a camp or a forest, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh. All right.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night, night.”

He left and I climbed under the covers, still reeling from what I have experienced. Maybe I’ll wake up in the morning back in my own bed to the noise of unruly, spoiled children? Maybe it’s a vivid dream, that I’ll forget and the bits that I won’t will be put onto paper. For now, the dream continues and I’ll try to not lose the grip on the steering wheel. Good night.


End file.
